Golden Glade Half way on a slow move

I don't believe I am. Seriously, who did this guy think he is to correct him? An opinion was that, an opinion. And to Abaddon, his opinion on the lad's pack sounded like a bunch of work that he simply did not want to take part of. To go about and wreak havoc, destroying the lives of others - there was always the vengeful types who would make one's life a living hell all in the name of retribution for their lost ones. It is why he aimed not to kill all his blood bags, to keep them alive was better for him than anything else.

Of course, there were always tragic losses. It was how life went, but it was not his goal to end their lives by his teeth. Not unlike this guy who seemed to glorify death and murder. 

The guy continued, going on and on on how great it was to be a part of something like a pack. Really, all Abaddon heard was how desperately they needed new members, despite how casual he tried to make it sound. If he truly was not trying to convince him, to talk him into changing his mind - then the conversation would have ended there. The last bit is what truly made him laugh in the man's face.

Don't take it personally, peaches. He used the guy's word against him in a mocking tone. It has nothing to do with your breed. He wasn't his racist father after all. Abaddon was his own damn man and had his own thoughts on different breeds. They looked weird, but that was about it. After this conversation and the one before you with that man of a woman, you all just aren't my type. I don't fight. I don't like desperate. I don't like being talked to as if you all know exactly who I am on a whim. Because even he wasn't sure he knew exactly who he was half the time, but he definitely knew more about himself than they ever would. 

Don't make this a personal matter. The young man continued to taunt mercilessly. The more they tried, the more he held back. That was just how he was after all. The harder one tried to grab, the more slippery he became.